The Point of No Return
by perfectvelvet
Summary: Elliot takes Olivia out for a birthday she'll never forget. EO, Elliot's POV
1. Chapter 1 of 3

Title: The Point of No Return  
Author: perfectvelvet  
Rating: PG for mild language and sensuality  
Synopsis: Elliot takes Olivia out for a birthday she'll never forget. E/O, Elliot's POV  
Notes: I started this story back in January. Mariska Hargitay turned 40 this year on January 23; thus in my fic, so does Olivia. (I realize she's not supposed to be that old in the series, but I'd appreciate it if you could just suspend reality for a moment. Thank you.) This is the prequel to a story I started writing a while ago. Maybe I'll finish it if enough people hound me :) I tend to need several shoves in the right direction. coughkukraecough Once again, the places like Petrossian and the details such as the subway route are as accurate as the Internet allows them to be. Except for Le Chic Spa. I made that up - but not the crazy beauty treatments I mentioned.  
As always, thanks to my two betas, Beth and kukrae. Writing is always much more enjoyable with their feedback :) 

Disclaimer: The characters within are property of Wolf Films, Universal Television, Studios USA, and other corporations. No infringement is intended. 

_The Point of No Return_ 1/3  
by perfectvelvet 

My eyes drifted between the paper in my hands and my wristwatch. It was a little after ten. I tried to hide the smile that I felt creeping to my lips and glanced at Olivia. She was oblivious to everything but her file, one hand shoved in her hair, the fingers absently massaging her scalp. She had no idea what was in store for her just ten hours from now. 

"People, it's after ten." Cragen's announcement was the catalyst to our plan, and I straightened just a little. "Go home, get some sleep. We'll continue looking through the records of Rikers' finest in the morning." 

Olivia stretched her arms overhead and began putting her things away. I tried to keep my attention focused on whatever it was I was supposed to be reading, but I could see Fin sliding on his coat out of the corner of my eye. I had to bite my lip to keep from grinning. 

"Hey, you heard what the captain said. Time to go." 

I leaned back in my chair and looked at my oh-so-clueless partner. "You go ahead. I'm just gonna finish this file." 

She shrugged and turned to Munch. "You coming or staying?" 

"Staying." 

Fin shook his head at his own partner's response. "Overachievers. Come on, Olivia. More beauty sleep for us." 

"You certainly need it," Munch called out as they left the near-empty squad room. The two of us sat quietly, eyes fixed on our files, until we heard the gentle chime of the elevator and the thump of the doors. We dared to look at each other before I rose from my chair and walked to the exit that Olivia and Fin had used. I peered around the corner; the hallway was empty, and the elevator doors were safely closed. "Okay, they're gone." 

Munch nodded, pulling open his top desk drawer and removing two walkie-talkies. He tossed one to me, which I clipped on my belt. He put his coat on and, with a half-wave, half-salute, started down the stairs. While I waited for him to reach the agreed position, I hurried to the crib. Under the bed was, I hoped, an oblong, unmarked box that Fin had hidden earlier in the week. I lifted up the blanket, which purposely hung to the floor and spotted the box. With a sigh of relief, I slid it out, picked it up, and carried it back to my desk. 

The radio at my hip started to squawk with Munch's voice: "_Party Guest Two to Party Guest One. Operation 'Over the Hill' has commenced._" 

I rolled my eyes. Leave it to Munch to treat the whole thing as some covert operation. "Any sign of Olivia?" 

"_Affirmative. Old Maid has reached the parking lot._" 

Oh yeah, Olivia would really like that one. "You're real funny, John." Cragen appeared beside me with four pairs of scissors and an office-sized box of scotch tape. "Thanks, Cap. All the stuff is in the box." 

"_She's getting into her Oldsmobile,_" Munch continued. 

"John--" 

"_Probably switching over to the oldies station._" 

I was about to reply when Cragen touched my arm. "Don't encourage him." I chuckled. Munch began singing the chorus to _Old Fashioned Love Song_. "Let's just hope he doesn't quit his day job." 

His comment made me grin even wider. I took the lid off the box and pulled out a roll of black wrapping paper with white lettering that read 'Over the Hill'. There was another roll with the words 'Life begins at 40.' Cragen took that one, and we held out our rolls like swords, ready to slay the dragon that was more commonly known as Olivia's desk. I sighed. "Well, we've got to start somewhere." 

Munch's voice cackled through the silence. "_Old Maid has left the parking lot in her vehicle, traveling eastbound. Will wait for Party Guest Three to circle the block before returning to base. Get out the streamers, men. It's time to decorate._"

* * *

Just like the night before when I couldn't wait for Olivia to leave, I spent the entire morning staring at my watch anticipating her arrival. 

I didn't get home until close to one o'clock and even then I was too excited to sleep. The four of us, despite the fact that we were male and hard-wired to be lousy interior decorators, really did a number on the office. Of course, it looked more like Halloween than a birthday party, given the fact that we let Munch pick out the decorations. Still, I had to admit it looked damn good, even camera-worthy (too bad I let Lizzie borrow the thing to take to the beach last summer where she 'accidentally' dropped it into the ocean). Black streamers hung from the ceiling and seemed to form a curtain around the coffee pot and the death by triple chocolate fudge birthday cake. I could feel my arteries clogging already. We also hung a banner from the ceiling in the center of the room - it said 'Happy Birthday Olivia' because, according to Munch, the party store employees wouldn't make one that said 'Happy Birthday Old-livia.' 

I knew I should've been suspicious when Munch offered to buy all the decorations. 

But then there was the centerpiece, that which had taken the bulk of our time last night - well, actually, Cragen and I worked on it the whole time while Munch and Fin got a brief reprieve to hang the banners and streamers. It was magnificent, glorious - as awesome as the obelisk in _2001_. It was the surprise to end all surprises. 

We had wrapped Olivia's entire desk. 

I'm not just talking about her desk and her chair, I'm talking about the whole shebang. Her keyboard, monitor, CPU. Every file, every picture frame, every pencil and the cup they were in. We left no stone unturned - or, rather, no item unwrapped. From the stapler to the tape dispenser, the lamp to the telephone, to the legs that offered support to the entire desk. Even her chair was plastered with 'Over the Hill' wrapping paper. It looked good albeit a little haphazard. (We're men, after all, not bound by whatever gene forces women to make a package a beautiful piece of artwork with bows and ribbons and whatnots.) 

I looked at my watch again. 8:01 a.m. Leave it to Miss Punctuality to be late today, of all days. Probably slept in, took a bubble bath instead of a shower, spent an hour doing her hair. I started to wonder if she suspected our plans. Maybe she was going to take the day off and then laugh at us on Monday. 

My telephone rang. It was Susie downstairs, calling to let me know that Olivia had just come in. I thanked her and hung up. "Okay, people, Liv's on her way up. Take your places." I had it all figured out. If Olivia wasn't onto our scheme, her fight-or-flight mechanism would most likely kick in. Since she wouldn't open fire in the squad room, she would most likely turn around and run away. At least that's what I would do if I was in her situation. So I made sure all the exits were covered by uniformed officers, and Casey and Huang were waiting by the elevator to escort her to the party. I sat back in my chair and allowed myself a huge grin. There was no way she was going to get out of this one. 

Finally, I could hear her voice. Huang said something back to her, and Casey laughed. When they appeared at the doorway, everyone began to sing "Happy birthday to you..." Olivia looked like a deer in headlights and, as I suspected, turned around and tried to escape. Casey grabbed one arm, Huang took the other, and they dragged her into the squad room, stopping only to push her into her wrapped-up chair. By that time, the song had ended, and everyone was applauding. Olivia, on the other hand, gave me a dirty look. Daggers could've been popping out of her eyes for all I cared. 

"Happy birthday, Liv." The shit-eating grin on my face only made her glare at me more. 

She continued with the death stare; I continued with the evil grin. No one else moved. I'm not sure they were even breathing. Was she going to reach for her gun and shoot me, or just lean across the desk and strangle me with my tie? She stood up and sauntered over , making the few steps between us seem like miles. She crooked her finger and made that come-hither motion that I, like an idiot, fell for. I closed the distance between us which gave her ample opportunity to grab my tie. I lifted an eyebrow; the gun would've been less painful, I think. I heard everyone draw in a sharp breath as she hissed, "Elliot Stabler, you're a dead man." 

I could see the smile in her eyes, but there was no way she was going to back down without cause. I had just the thing. "And to think I went to all this trouble just for you. Well, I guess Fin will have to take the fudge cake back then." 

That got her attention. "Fudge cake?" 

Fin shrugged. "I doubt the shop will want it back. Can't be too many women named Olivia turning 40 today." 

"Actually, my neighbor's name is Olivia," Munch declared, even though I doubted he even knew who his neighbors were. "She's turning 34. Maybe we can just add a three in front and smear the zero into the icing. You know, that delicious chocolatey fudge icing with just a hint of delicate coffee flavor." He stood up and approached the cake. "Yeah, you probably wouldn't want it anyway." 

Olivia must've been a sprinter in high school because I'd never seen someone cover fifteen feet faster than someone who only had to cover two. She blocked Munch's access to the table. "Oh, but I do want my cake." 

"Olivia, it's death by triple chocolate fudge cake." 

"Really?" her voice oozed, a serene expression on her face. "I changed my mind. Elliot, you've received a pardon from death row. Thank you for the fudge cake." 

"You're welcome," I said with a chuckle. It would be only a matter of time before she started drooling, and it was best to accept her apology now than let her embarrass herself. There are fudge cake addicts, and then there is Olivia. 

Munch shook his head. "I'd like to go on the record as stating that eating something with the word 'death' in the name is probably not a good idea." 

Casey made her way to the table as well, rubbing her hands together. "So noted, John. Now where's the knife?"

* * *

It took a while for Olivia to unwrap her gifts because we had them stacked on her desk with all of her wrapped office supplies, making them nearly impossible to find. She found Huang's gift certificate to Barnes and Noble and Starbucks right away (which was a good present, considering the coffee in the precinct is about as tasty as toilet bowl cleaner). The next package, however, held her back-up files on three CD-ROMs. 

Casey laughed at the efforts, bringing another garbage bag to Olivia's side. After setting it down, she reached inside her purse and pulled out an envelope. "I wasn't sure how long it would take you to go through all of your ... gifts ... so I made sure to keep mine separate. Happy birthday." 

"Thank you, Casey." She looked at me and sneered. "See, we women are smarter. Keep the gifts separate from the gag." She opened the envelope and gasped. "Oooh, an afternoon at Le Chic Spa! Thanks, Casey!" 

"It's a great package. You get a one-hour skin care treatment, a one-hour body mask, a forty-five minute full body massage, and a facial." Describing it, she was almost as giddy as Olivia. "Le Chic uses herbal toners, aromatherapy compresses, and a really wonderful sage foot soak. You'll think you died and went to heaven." 

"Let me see that." Munch took the brochure and skimmed it. "Oh, look, Olivia. You get to be wrapped in seaweed!" He scoffed and tossed it on her desk. "Suddenly, dying and going to heaven doesn't sound like such a bad idea." 

Casey rolled her eyes. "Don't listen to him." 

"I don't." She picked up the certificate and tucked it in her purse. "This is fantastic. Thank you." 

"Our appointment is at one o'clock. Have a light lunch." 

"Oh, but--" 

Cragen held up a hand. "You have the afternoon off. That's my gift to you. Of course, you can come in tomorrow to make up for it, assuming you don't stay out too late." 

"Stay out too late? What am I doing?" 

I bit my bottom lip and tossed a wad of wrapping paper at my partner. "Maybe you'd better finish opening your presents first." I threw another ball at the captain, knocking him in the shoulder. "Ssshh." 

"Ohh." He gave me a broad albeit fake smile. "In that case, I'll see _both_ of you in the morning." 

Munch picked up the piece I had thrown at Cragen. "That makes four of us then. Fin and I drew the short straws last week." 

"I remember," I told him. "Your punishment for sticking us on the graveyard shift stakeout." 

Olivia wasn't paying attention to our banter; she had continued unwrapping her desk. I noticed she had found her container of paper clips (we didn't wrap each clip individually; we were neither that stupid nor that patient). She looked at the holder as if it was something she'd never seen before then stacked it on a nearby chair with the rest of her office supplies. "Hey, I found one with a tag. To Olivia from Munch." 

I raised my eyebrows and watched her rip open the thick package. I didn't know what he had gotten her. Once the paper was cast aside, I could tell it was a hardcover book, but the back of it gave no indication of the subject matter. 

It was only after Olivia read the title aloud that I burst out laughing. "_Hovering Black Helicopters_," she said with only the slightest hint of suspicion. "_A True Tale of Deceit and Betrayal by the U.S. Government._ Gee, thanks, Munch." 

"It'll make a great coaster," I said, verbalizing what I knew Olivia would never say aloud. "Or a T.V. tray." 

Munch sighed heavily. "You know, maybe if you guys would read some of this stuff, you'd realize that the government knows more about you than you think." He pulled the book from Olivia's hands, and she looked at me, wide-eyed. "For instance, Chapter 12: Big Brother is Watching. This chapter details the numerous ways that the government collects information about you. Listen, listen. Your library card is connected to the FBI's computers. When you check out a book on gardening, they're aware of it but take no action. I mean, gardening, who cares, right? However, you check out a book on combat techniques or nuclear weapons, your name goes on their list with a little yellow flag. Caution. They're keeping their eye on you." 

By that time, my expression mirrored Olivia's: one of amused disbelief. "So when Kathleen did her report on Area 51..." 

"Red flag. Anything directly relating to the government and their numerous cover-ups is red-flagged. Your daughter has an FBI file the size of China, my friend. She will be under close watch for the rest of her life." 

Fin, who had been listening to Munch's cautionary tale, rolled his eyes and sighed. "Man, this is ridiculous. Where's your little foil hat, Munch? You know, the one that protects you from the aliens' cosmic death rays?" 

"I had it permanently implanted in my skull," he replied, handing the book back to Olivia. "If you read this, you will be safe." 

"If you read that, you'll be red-flagged," I reminded her. "Say it with me, Liv. T.V. tray." 

She gazed up at Munch, clutching the book to her chest. "I appreciate your concern for my safety, John. Thank you." 

He bowed slightly. "At least someone here will be safe." Then he pointed a finger at me. "The feds have a silver bullet with your name on it, pal." 

Once Munch had settled down and Olivia resumed her unwrapping, I began to wonder if she would like my gift. It was a silly thought; of course she would. I'd been planning it for months, and Casey's spa afternoon coupled with Cragen's early release added to my excitement. Of course, I'd made sure my present was as close to her desktop as possible; I only hoped she didn't get tired of opening things by then. 

"There's mine," I heard Fin say, pointing to a thin, square-shaped package. "Go ahead, open it." He could hardly wait until the paper was off before telling her what it was. "Queen Latifah." 

"_She's a Queen: A Collection of Hits_," she said, citing the title. "Rap music?" 

"Gotta bring you into my world somehow. The Queen's probably right around your speed." 

"Really?" She flipped the case over to read the song listings. 

"Maybe you'll start to appreciate some rap. The Queen's all about respecting women." 

"Well, I certainly appreciate that. Thanks, Fin." 

Huang, Casey, Cap, Munch, Fin. That left my gift, and Olivia knew it. She gave me a sly look and began unwrapping office supplies at an increased speed. Miniature calendar, tape dispenser - these items were tossed aside with less care as she worked on minimizing the pile that still loomed on her desk. 

Finally, I spotted my envelope tucked beneath her wrapped stapler (obvious because of its unique shape). Olivia saw it too and grabbed it. I grinned. This was it. The moment I had been waiting for for months. 

She held it in her hands for a moment before turning it over and pulling the tip up. There was silence. Everyone was watching her expression. As she removed the two tickets, she drew in a breath. "Oh ... Elliot." She looked at me, the corners of her mouth slowly rising upward. "How did you know?" 

Before I could answer, Munch interrupted, "Come on, Olivia, he knows your bra size. You think he wouldn't know that you wanted to see _The Phantom of the Opera_ at the Majestic for your birthday?" 

His words broke her spell, and she blinked. "Thanks, Munch." 

"Yeah, thanks, Munch," I said, equally annoyed. She didn't need to know that I knew her bra size. I shot one more glare at Munch before turning back to Olivia, who was studying the tickets. "I'll pick you up at 5:30. We have dinner reservations at 6:00. Show's at 8:30." 

"Good thing I have the afternoon off." She gasped, her eyes widening. "I have to buy a dress. Casey--" 

"There is a boutique right across from Le Chic." Casey squinted, and I could tell she was envisioning the layout of the store and scanning the inventory. "I bet we could find you a really fun dress." 

"Fun?" Munch repeated. 

"You wouldn't understand," Fin told him, "it's a girl thing." 

"Well, Liv can explain it to you at lunch," I told them. 

"What about you?" she asked. 

"I have to run a few errands. Not all of us get to leave after lunch." 

"You may not get lunch." We all turned to Cragen, who had just set the telephone down. "We've got a rape victim at Bellevue."

* * *

For once, everything was going my way. Our victim knew her attacker, a relatively rare event as of late. Turns out she had been a temp at his insurance company, and he had promised to let her keep her job if she performed certain "duties" on the side. 

Olivia and I went to pick him up at his office. He ran, which I thought was odd given his reputation, but Olivia gave him a good chase, down the stairs and out the building, tackling him on the sidewalk in front of a dozen or so businessmen. I teased her about it as we returned to the precinct - "Way to work off those calories from the death by triple chocolate fudge cake." 

Of course, when we got the perp in the interrogation room, he refused to talk. He said he didn't need to rape women; they all wanted him. Besides, he'd never have sex with a woman from his office. We did a little good cop/bad cop interrogation. I let Liv be the bad cop; it was her birthday, after all. After a few minutes of her wrath focused on him, he lawyered up, but Munch and Fin found a used condom near the scene with an army of his little soldiers taking refuge in the tip. The perp confessed to having sex with her, but that was all; he didn't rape her. I frowned at him and leaned forward on the table. "So why did we find traces of your skin underneath her fingernails?" He mumbled something about her liking it rough, even though _he_ was the one with the five inch claw marks down the front of his chest. Casey did a little bargaining with the guy's attorney, and they struck a deal that I could live with. 

All this in time for Olivia to go to lunch with Munch and Fin. If only every day was so cut and dry.

* * *

I used my lunch hour to pick up my dry cleaning and have my hair trimmed. Of course, that didn't stop me from running behind schedule. One thing I've always admired about Olivia is her ability to look fantastic in less than ten minutes. She could have had one hour of sleep and manage to be at the stationhouse within half an hour of being called in - and that's with twenty minutes of driving time. So I knew she'd be ready when I picked her up a few minutes late. Just as I had guessed, when I knocked on the door, she opened it almost immediately. 

I seem to remember my jaw dropping to the floor at the sight of her. The thoughts going through my mind actually made _me_ blush. 

"Do you like it?" she asked, doing a little twirl. 

I nodded dumbly. She had way too much skin exposed for the month of January. 

"I don't know if it's really appropriate for the Majestic, but it's my birthday and I look damn good for my age." 

"Damn right." Well, so much for once-overs. I think I was giving her a _tenth_-over. Her outfit consisted of two relatively simple pieces: a shirt and a skirt. The shirt, however, was a deep red halter top that matched her lipstick shade. How did women do that? I'm lucky if my socks matched half the time. The skirt she wore was black and it had some kind of fabric sewn in at the hem line to make it look fuller around her knees. Hell, I don't know the first thing about fashion. All I knew was that she looked incredibly sexy in that outfit. The rest of it was semantics. 

"Is it cold outside?" she asked, hands folded in what looked like a prayer. 

"If I tell you yes, are you going to change clothes?" 

"No, I'm going to wear a heavier coat." 

Relief swept over me. "Go with the heavier coat. If you get too cold, I'll let you wear my tuxedo jacket." Cause let's face it, I could use a little cooling off right now. 

"Oh! I almost forgot." She slid over to the refrigerator in her stocking feet like Tom Cruise in _Risky Business_ and yanked it open. Whatever was inside, she found immediately and brought over to me. It was a small, see-through plastic container. "I knew you'd choose a black cummerbund so I got you this." She removed the red rose boutonniere with a smile and began pinning it to my lapel. 

"I'm having flashbacks of my high school prom," I said. "Does this mean we get to make out under the bleachers?" 

I should've known better than to tease her when she had a sharp object in her hand. I felt the tip of the pin graze my flesh, and I jerked back. She gave me an impish smile and an unapologetic "Sorry." 

When she was done, I straightened my shoulders, catching a glimpse of myself in her entryway mirror. I may have looked dressed for the prom, but my age definitely showed. "You ready, Liv?" 

Her reflection appeared behind me as she slid on her coat. "Absolutely. I'm starving. While Munch and Fin inhaled double bacon cheeseburgers, I was stuck nibbling on a garden salad with all veggies, no cheese, no meat, and very little oil and vinegar." 

"That's the price you pay for being beautiful, huh?" 

She rolled her eyes. "No way do I ever want to be a supermodel." 

"Well, come on, birthday girl," I said, crooking my elbow so she could take it. "Your calorie-fest awaits." 

_End of Chapter 1_


	2. Chapter 2 of 3

Title: The Point of No Return  
Author: perfectvelvet  
Rating: PG  
Synopsis: Elliot takes Olivia out for a birthday she'll never forget. E/O, Elliot's POV 

Thanks for all the really fantastic feedback! Glad you all seem to be enjoying it. Exit humor, enter romance. 

Disclaimer: The characters within are property of Wolf Films, Universal Television, Studios USA, and other corporations. No infringement is intended. Borrowed lyrics at the end of this part were written by Charles Hart and are, of course, from _The Phantom of the Opera_. Again, no infringement is intended. 

_The Point of No Return_ 2/3  
by perfectvelvet 

Olivia had a few major food vices. Number one was fudge. (I think she had three pieces of her birthday cake before lunch which probably made it easier to survive all afternoon on the miniscule salad.) The lesser-known number two was caviar. I've often wondered why people are so enamored with fish eggs and are willing to pay top dollar for it. Still, I knew Olivia loved it, so I figured if I coupled it with _The Phantom of the Opera_, she'd be thrilled. 

Caviar is a tricky thing. I actually enlisted the help of Kathleen to find a website all about it. I figured Olivia was a connoisseur, and I didn't want to embarrass her by making some fish egg faux pas. An hour later, I felt like the caviar king. I still wrinkled my nose thinking about it, but at least I wouldn't make a complete ass out of myself at dinner. Now all I needed was a restaurant to take her to. I hollered for Kathleen again who rolled her eyes and told me to take Olivia to Petrossian, the top caviar restaurant in the country. "Duh, Dad." 

My children never cease to amaze me. 

Well, it may have been the top caviar restaurant in the country, but Olivia had never eaten there, even when her caviar cravings had threatened to turn her into a madwoman. She was familiar with it though and said she'd always wanted to try it. She was digging her nails into my arm with excitement before we even got in the door. I detached her and shrugged off my coat, handing it to the coat check attendant. Olivia seemed a little surprised when I helped her take off her coat, but the look was reciprocated when she produced a black shoulder wrap for cover. 

We followed the maître d' through the dining room to our table. The place was already close to full. Many of the patrons wore upper class business attire. It was definitely not an atmosphere where you would be allowed to show up in jeans. A few of the men glanced at Olivia, averting their eyes when they noticed me behind her. I wondered if she realized how they stared at her. I wondered if she knew that she is so much more than they think. 

We were seated at a small table near the back of the dining room. Mirrors lined the pinkish walls that arched toward the chandelier on the ceiling. Oh yeah, very classy. I had to remember to let Kathleen borrow my credit card for picking this place out. Well, if I hadn't maxed the thing out by the end of the night, which I fully intended on doing if necessary. Only the best for my partner. 

When we received our menus, Olivia flipped straight to the section about caviar. I watched her read over the individual selections, and I knew exactly what she was thinking. "Don't pay attention to the prices," I said, reading over the non-caviar portion of the menu, "just order whatever you want." 

"I already know I'm getting the smallest portion. Can't have too much of a good thing. Have to save room for dessert." 

I chuckled. "Dessert? What about your fudge cake?" 

"We ate it all, remember?" 

"Well, yeah, but what happened to 'too much of a good thing'?" 

"It's chocolate, Elliot," she said as if she had bestowed some great and wondrous knowledge upon me. 

"Right." The server returned to our table and asked if we would like an appetizer. I smiled to myself. Now was the time to dazzle Olivia with my newfound knowledge of caviar. "May I?" At her nod, I ordered, "Two glasses of Krug Rosé please - and the thirty gram presentation of Tsar Imperial Ossetra for the lady." The man nodded and walked off again, and I looked at Olivia to see what she thought of my choice. 

"Since when did you become an expert on caviar, Elliot? I thought you hated the stuff." 

"Oh, I do. But you don't." 

Her cheeks flushed, and she gave me a radiant smile which could only mean one thing: I had done something incredibly right.

* * *

Dinner was spectacular to say the least. I had their selection of salmon, which included several different yet flavorful versions of the fish. It also came with a small helping of salmon caviar. Olivia gladly ate the eggs as well as any part of my food that had been contaminated by them. Her yellowfin tuna looked delicious, too. I stuck my fork into it and took a bite. 

"It's seaweed-crusted," she told me once I had swallowed. 

I frowned. "Didn't you just spend the afternoon wrapped in seaweed?" 

"That was part of the spa package, yes." 

"Well, isn't that a little weird?" 

"What?" 

"That you were wrapped in seaweed and now you're eating something that's been wrapped in seaweed?" 

She giggled, probably a side effect of her second glass of champagne. "Well, I doubt they wrapped the tuna to treat it for cellulite." 

"Since when do you have cellulite?" 

"You may know my bra size, Stabler, but you do _not_ know everything." She grinned at my obvious discomfort. "Actually, 'seaweed wrap' is kind of misleading. I was really just coated with a gel that contained sea kelp and then wrapped like a mummy in cotton bandages." 

"And it's supposed to get rid of cellulite?" It sounded like another one of those health and beauty scams. 

"Well, that, and give my skin a healthy glow." 

"I don't know about this supposed cellulite, but you are glowing, so it must've worked." 

She drew her finger around the rim of her champagne flute. "I don't think the glowing is from the seaweed wrap." 

"Really?" I asked, trying to sound nonchalant. 

"Elliot, do you realize that this is the best birthday I've ever had in my life? _Ever_?" 

I smiled. "You're welcome, Liv."

* * *

For dessert, we shared the chocolate brandy mousse cake. Olivia thought it was decadent, and her verbal praise was a constant mantra with each bite. She'd had so much chocolate in the last twelve hours, I half-expected her to invite me to the gym after the show. I paid the bill when it arrived, giving the server a very generous tip and hiding the total cost from Olivia. 

"Oh, come on," she said as I blocked the computations with my hand, "I have to know how long I need to be nice to you." 

"Oh, you have to be nice to me for at least the next ten years." 

"Maybe I'll just concoct a really fabulous birthday for you, too." She squinted in thought, and I laughed at her efforts. 

"Face it, Liv, this was the birthday to end all birthdays." 

"You got that right." 

We retrieved our coats and headed for the subway station at 59th Street. We had to walk one block to this station (in the wrong direction) and then another two blocks from the Times Square/42nd Street station to get to the Majestic, but three blocks was better than fourteen, particularly in January. Olivia must've been cold because she nestled herself against my side, holding both my arm and my hand. She felt good beside me, and I squeezed her hand a little bit tighter. 

I needed to be honest with myself. Snow swirled around our feet, but it wasn't coming from the sky so she probably wasn't that cold. There were a lot of things I found amazing about Olivia, and most of them had been reaffirmed throughout the evening. One of them always made my heart do flip-flops: she knew everything about me, even my deepest darkest secrets, and yet she still wanted to be with me. She didn't shy away from me when I told her that Kathy and I were separating; she was the one who suggested a course of marriage counseling. When I confessed that I was fighting a strong urge to do bodily harm to a suspect, she took me to a boxing gym and let me beat the hell out of a heavy bag. What was it that Forrest Gump said? "Like peas and carrots." That described Olivia and me, too. 

We boarded the train and took one of the last available seats. Many of the other passengers were also dressed up. They were probably headed to Time Square as well; there wasn't a lot of clubbing to be had at 7:30. (Maybe there was; I hadn't been dancing in years.) 

I looked at Olivia, who didn't appear to be releasing my hand anytime soon. "You okay?" 

She gave me an enthusiastic nod. "We're going to see _Phantom_." 

"You sound just like Lizzie did when I told her I was taking her to see Disney on Ice." 

"Oh, I _love_ Disney on Ice! My adolescent dream was to be a figure skater. Some friends and I went to Rockefeller Center one winter - I think I was sixteen - and there was a boy there that I liked. I tried to get him to notice me." 

"This can't be good." 

She laughed. "No. My triple Salchow ended up more like a triple face plant, and thus my dreams of the Olympic gold were crushed." 

"You didn't get the boy to notice you either, did you?" 

"Oh, he noticed me all right. He even remembered who I was on Monday morning and proceeded to have his friends notice me, too." She scoffed. "I hated high school." 

I smiled at her. I didn't share her feelings; those were relatively happy times for me. I had found the woman I was going to spend the rest of my life with, or so I thought. Kathy and I were going through some rough times right now. We'd been separated for almost three months; I got lucky finding an apartment so soon after we mutually agreed to live in separate locations. We'd only been to two counseling sessions. Our schedules just weren't compatible, which was a big part of our problems anyway. We had another one set up for next week, and I was going to try my hardest to make it. 

And still ... 

I heard once that everyone had a soul mate. I always thought mine was Kathy. Seven years ago, when Olivia walked into my life, my beliefs changed. She was my best friend, the one person I could turn to, the only person I could trust. _That_ was a soul mate. But then what did that make Kathy? 

"What's wrong?" 

Her voice startled me, and I realized she had been watching me. "Nothing." 

She rolled her eyes. "Well, you better cheer up. One more stop until we reach Times Square, two blocks to the Majestic, and then..." 

"_The Phantom of the Opera_." I grinned. "Didn't I promise you a good time?"

* * *

I scored extra Brownie points with Olivia when I told her our _Phantom_ tickets were in the center of the fourth row. She was so excited, I had to threaten to withhold her gift if she didn't calm down. Bad idea. 

"You got me _another_ present?" came her squeal as she threw her arms around me and gave me a quick hug. I began to wonder what happened to my partner. She had never been this giddy the whole year she was 39 or the 38 years before that. It was like I was seeing a whole new side of her - and I had to admit, I kind of liked it. She was still mature (at least I hoped she was), but it was nice to see her not act so serious all the time. 

We settled into our seats, and I could hear the orchestra begin to tune up. Olivia grabbed my arm excitedly. "I hope you like it," I whispered. 

She slid her hand into mine. "I already do." She was quiet for a while, squirming in her seat with what I thought was anticipation. "I'll be right back." 

"Where are you going?" She had already started to crawl over the elderly woman seated next to me. 

"Ladies' room." 

I had heard her perfectly well but asked innocently, "Where?" 

She stopped long enough to roll her eyes at me before weaving her way around other theater goers in search of a bathroom. I didn't have a chance to tell her that the closest one was out the exit two rows back. Oh well. It would give her something to do for a while. 

The woman beside me started talking about how the only good Phantom was Michael Crawford and everyone else was a horrid impersonation of greatness. I began to wish I had directed Olivia to the closest bathroom. I'd never met someone so enamoured with Michael Crawford before. In all honesty, it was kind of frightening. When she admitted that she wanted to cross-stitch Crawford's face on a pillow so that she could "sleep beside him every night", I found myself tempted to contact the Broadway actor and tell him to run far, far away. 

"Sorry. Excuse me. Sorry." Olivia sunk in the seat beside me, and I turned just in time to see her sigh in content. "All better." 

"Trade me places?" I asked hopefully. 

"Why?" 

"Because I'm afraid." 

She laughed. "Of the seventy-five year old woman beside you?" 

"No, I'm afraid the guy next to you might try to cop a feel once the lights go down." 

"Really?" She glanced sideways at the well-dressed man and his wandering eyes. "Okay." She stood up and stepped over my knees as I slid into her seat. She smiled at the woman who was now beside her. "Hello." 

"Hello, dear." The woman smiled back. "Your first time?" 

"To the Majestic? Yes. To see the _Phantom_? Yes." Olivia bounced a little in her seat. "I'm so excited. I hear the troupe is fantastic." 

The woman shrugged. "I don't know about that. I haven't had much interest in seeing it since Michael Crawford left. He was the most wonderful Phantom. His voice, the way he spoke his lines..." 

I covered my mouth with my sleeve to hide my laughter, but it was less than effective. I actually snorted. 

Olivia swung her head back at me and hissed, "Liar." 

My reply was a smug grin and a quiet chuckle. 

The play finally started, the house lights dimming. I found myself excited too, not because of the play itself (I'd seen it before) but because of Olivia's reaction to it. She really was behaving like a child on Christmas Eve. Eventually I was able to stop staring at her and pay attention to the performance, but when Christine began to sing 'Think of Me', my mind was once again on the woman beside me. I glanced at her. Her eyes were wide, her lips parted. I almost laughed; she kind of looked like an extra on _Night of the Living Dead_. Of course, it didn't take too long for me to join the Broadway trance, and I became lost in the music. I had never really listened to opera, even though Munch played it from time to time. It wasn't until I first heard the music from this show that I began to appreciate it. 

Kathy never liked opera; she didn't care too much for live performances either. I took her to _Cats_ once, and she fell asleep. Lizzie and Dickie, however, absolutely loved seeing _The Lion King_ on stage. Of course, it was based on a Disney movie and had colorful, attractive costumes and familiar music. Kathleen and Maureen begged me to take them to _Grease_ and enjoyed it. Kathy, though ... she was a wonderful person, a loving mother, but she was not a fan of the theater. She liked movies, romantic movies especially. I wanted to take her to see _West Side Story_ for our anniversary a few years ago, thinking that she'd like it, but she wasn't interested in going at all - and she even owns the video! I gave up trying after that, and my theater-going days with my wife were over. 

Olivia, on the other hand... When I found out she wanted to see _Phantom_, I was surprised. I never pegged her as having an interest in musicals. It didn't matter though; I finally had the chance to return to the Theater District and catch up on my Webber. And at the Majestic ... I knew she would love it. And from the look on her face, she did. 

I turned my head toward her as Raoul sung the first lines of 'All I Ask of You.' It was one of my favorite love songs of all the Broadway plays. Olivia was on the edge of her seat, staring at the stage. The light hit her face, reflecting against a tear that slid down her cheek. She was chewing on her bottom lip, probably in an attempt to keep from breaking down completely. I smiled; the song had the same effect on me when I first heard it performed live. 

Cymbals crashed at the crescendo of the song, as Raoul and Christine kissed. Olivia jumped a little, and more tears began to flow. I reached over and took her hand. She trembled, looking at our entwined fingers then at me. Then she smiled that bright, beautiful smile that my whole body tingle. We stayed like that throughout the interlude, grinning at each other like we had a secret. When the singing resumed, she turned her attention back to the performance - but she never let go of my hand.

* * *

We wove through the crowds of people on our way to the subway, hoping to get there before everyone else. _Phantom_ was excellent, even better than I remembered, but I hadn't had time to ask Olivia what she thought of it. She was relatively quiet, still grasping my hand to avoid getting separated. I had a hard time keeping up with her, and she was the one wearing the heels. 

We finally pushed our way onto the number one, heading back the way we came. We couldn't find a seat and were squashed between two other standing couples. Olivia tucked herself under my arm, and for a moment I was afraid she was going to fall asleep. Actually, I was worried. She hadn't said anything at all since we left the Majestic. 

The subway doors opened at the 50th Street/Broadway stop, and I pulled her through them. She resisted, finally saying, "Elliot, this isn't our stop." 

"Oh, yes it is. Come on." 

She followed me, head tilted to the side. "Where are we going?" 

"You'll see." I glanced at my watch; it was almost 11:30, and if memory served me they 'closed' at midnight. Ooh, Olivia was probably going to kill me, but it would be a fun death. Though at the moment, it didn't even look like she would protest. I sighed inwardly. "Okay, Liv, you're quiet." 

A smile appeared on her face. "I'm ... reflecting." 

"Reflecting," I repeated. "About the play?" 

"About everything. This whole night meant a lot to me, Elliot. Thanks." 

I smiled. "You're welcome." 

Our destination came into sight, and Olivia stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. "You've got to be kidding me. Elliot, it's been--" 

"Twenty-four years. I know. Come on, Liv, you can show me your Triple Salchow." 

The Rink at Rockefeller Center was surprisingly busy for this time of night. I paid the admission price for each of us and rented skates. Olivia gazed out at the ice, lacing up the skates. "I can't believe I'm going ice skating - in a dress!" 

"Life begins at forty, remember." I grinned at her before holding out my hands. "Don't worry, I'll help you." 

"Elliot..." She was on the verge of whining. "Fine. Dammit. But if I fall, I'm taking you down with me." 

I led her out to the rink, putting her between the wall and myself. She cut off the blood flow to my arm with her grip, and her legs moved like cement blocks. When she started to wobble, I straightened her back out. Despite its simplicity, it was a relatively effective method of teaching; I taught all of my kids how to skate by dragging them along. 

"This isn't so bad," she said after a while. She let go of my forearm and took my hand, skating alongside easily. "So is this my other gift?" 

"No, this was just a last-minute thing." 

"Well, I'm not sure what could make this night any better. We've had caviar--" 

"_You've_ had caviar," I corrected. 

"--and chocolate cake and _Phantom_ and ice skating." She tilted her head to the side. "Did you buy me the Statue of Liberty?" 

"You know, I tried, but I would've had to put her on layaway..." We slid to a stop near the entryway. Olivia jerked backward but steadied herself without much help. I chuckled. "I told you it'd come back to you. You looked good out there." 

"Well, I had a good teacher." She held my gaze for a moment before dropping a quick kiss on my cheek. "Now come on. We have ten more minutes!" She was a quarter of the way around the rink before I realized she was gone. The warmth of her lips traveled my whole body, but it still made me shiver. "Elliot!" 

"Coming, Liv," I replied, trying to hide my grin as I turned around and skated after her.

* * *

I don't even remember what started it all - probably Olivia's dead-on impersonation of the obsessed Michael Crawford fan from the theater - but by the time we reached my apartment, my sides ached. I hadn't laughed like that in ages. Olivia had some minor difficulty getting up the stairs, and she slapped a hand over her mouth to keep from giggling. My neighbors were definitely not night owls, and I'm sure any disruption in their sleeping habits would bring the police to my door. 

Once inside, we collapsed onto the couch, laughing once again. It took us a while to settle down, but the glowing numbers on my VCR clock provided us with a sobering realization: it was after one o'clock. My second late night in a row - and I wasn't even tired. 

"I hope nothing important happens tomorrow," she mumbled, slumping against my shoulder. "We've got less than seven hours to sleep." 

"Definitely less. I've still got to get you home." 

"I should just sleep on your couch. I'm sure Munch would love to see me in this outfit." 

"Yeah, but who would clean up the puddle of drool?" 

Her snort turned into a small fit of giggles. I should've stopped her at one glass of champagne. "I'm trying to picture a mop equal to the task." She looked up at me, her face just inches from mine. "I don't think it's possible to thank you enough for tonight, but thank you." 

"You don't have to thank me, Olivia. I can't remember a time when I've had more fun." 

"Just wait until your birthday. I'm planning a cruise." 

"A cruise?" I laughed. "You're not serious." 

"Well, it's the only thing I can think of that even compares to this." She leaned back, giving me a chance to retrieve her gift from my bedroom. "Just picture it! A week on a giant boat, our every need being attended to by some hunk in a Speedo." 

"Ah, so this is _your_ birthday again." 

"Okay, you can have a buxom blonde in a bikini, how's that? We'll sail to the Caribbean..." 

I didn't hear the rest of her fantasy; I was distracted by the small velvet box on my dresser. My hands trembled as I turned on the lamp. Why was I so nervous? The night had gone better than I could've dreamed. Olivia had been receptive to everything; she even went ice skating in a dress! Was it the gift I was about to give her that had my heart pounding? 

"Elliot?" Her voice sounded close, and I realized she was standing behind me. "You're missing out on our vacation planning." 

No, not the gift. Though it could be the fact that I wanted to kiss her. 

The thought surprised me, and I grabbed the box, shoving it in her hands. "Last one, I promise." I let out a breath, hoping my face didn't reveal what I had been thinking about. Where had that come from? I had been comparing her to my wife all night, and Olivia had more tally marks on my mental scorecard. There was definitely something wrong there, and that, combined with my sudden physical yearnings... Just what the hell was wrong with me? 

She smiled again, and I felt the corners of my mouth rise into a dopey grin. "Okay, but this looks a little small to be the Statue of Liberty." She lifted the lid and peeked inside. "Oh, Elliot ... I don't even know what to say." Still grinning, she removed the necklace and held it up. The teardrop-shaped moonstone glistened in the light. "It's beautiful." 

"It's a long chain; I wanted it to be something you could wear under your shirt, without anyone noticing at work. You know how they feel about jewelry." 

"What kind of gem is that?" 

"Moonstone. Evidently, it is the feminine energy stone." 

"No kidding." 

"It's supposed to help you fulfill your destiny. I don't know if that's true or not but... It's the state gem of Florida and one of the state gems of New York. Oh, and it's supposed to grant wishes too." 

"Really?" She slipped the chain over her neck and closed her eyes, rubbing the stone. 

"What did you wish for?" 

"The Statue of Liberty," she answered, looking at me playfully. 

"Funny." I picked up the stone, twirling it between my thumb and forefinger, and wished for courage. "Olivia--" 

The moment her lips touched mine, there was no going back. I finally knew what was wrong with me, but I wasn't so sure it was wrong anymore. My hands tangled in her hair, her body rising against mine, our mouths meeting with a surprising fervor... Evidently, my mind hadn't been the only one to wander into uncharted territory. I pulled away and opened my eyes, scared that this was just a dream. 

But she was there, her back pressed against the wall, waiting. She said nothing, but I don't think I could've formed a coherent sentence either. Instead, she just stared at me with those big eyes, biting her lower lip in a futile effort to keep from smiling. Her smile ... I think that's what did me in, what's always attracted me to her. Such an innocent thing that got us here; now the question was, where would it take us? There was only one way to find out. 

Slowly, I reached over and turned off the light. 

_Past the point of no return -  
the final threshold -   
the bridge is crossed, so stand  
and watch it burn...  
We've passed the point of no return..._

_End of Chapter 2_


	3. Chapter 3 of 3

Title: The Point of No Return  
Author: perfectvelvet  
Rating: PG 

Keeping in mind that there is a sequel planned for this (which I had planning on writing first), I bring you the final chapter. If you've got any ideas for me, I'm all ears, all the time :) 

Disclaimer: The characters within are property of Wolf Films, Universal Television, Studios USA, and other corporations. No infringement is intended. 

_The Point of No Return_ 3/3  
by perfectvelvet 

The aching that racked my body was pleasant, and I felt fully rested, even though I had gotten less sleep than usual. I kept my eyes squeezed shut, letting the memories of last night flood my brain. If I had had any doubts, they were certainly gone now. Good or bad, wrong or right, there was no denying that I had fallen head over heels in love with my partner. I reached over to put an arm around her. 

And found nothing. 

Opening one eye, I peered at the empty space where Olivia had been just hours ago. I could still see the rumpled sheets, the indented pillow, but she was gone. I listened for the sound of running water, a percolating coffee pot - nothing. "Liv?" Both eyes now focused on the room, I glanced at my clock. 7:42. "Shit!" I tried jumping out of bed, but my legs got tangled in the bedding and I went careening head first toward the floor with another curse. No wonder she wasn't there; we were due for work in eighteen minutes. But why didn't she wake me? 

There was no time to ponder her hasty departure, nor was there any time to shower. I changed into the cleanest suit I could find, brushed my teeth, and raced down to my car, taking two stairs at a time.

* * *

"Elliot, how nice of you to grace us with your presence." Munch dumped a white bag from Bagel Boss on my desk. "Sustenance?" 

"Thanks." I pulled a whole wheat bagel from the sack. At the moment, I didn't care about cream cheese; I took a large bite and chewed quickly. 

"So where's your partner in crime?" 

"You mean she's not here yet?" I mumbled. There was nothing nearby to help soften the bread, so I kept chewing. Damn me and my big bite. If Olivia wasn't here and she wasn't at my apartment, where was she? 

"Sorry!" Her timing was impeccable, as always. She scurried into the squadroom, yanking open her locker and shoving her handbag inside. "I got stuck in traffic." 

Munch raised his eyebrows and wandered back to his desk. "Sounds like _you_ two had a long night." His comment caught me off guard, and I nearly choked on my bagel. The sound did not go unnoticed, and I seemed to have just added gasoline and a case of lighter fluid to his conspiratorial embers. He shot a long look at me, a smug smile forming on his face. "I see." 

"Uh, Munch?" Olivia held the empty coffee pot up to the light and noted its lack of transparency. "What happened here?" 

"It appears that someone neglected to clean it out." 

Fin came to her side and grabbed the pot. "Now that's just nasty." 

She shook her head with a sigh, turning toward the exit. "Tell Cragen I'll be back; I need some coffee." 

"What do you mean?" Munch called after her. "We have a perfectly good coffee maker right here." 

The second she was out of sight, the proverbial vultures began to circle. I looked up from my second bagel to see Munch and Fin hovering over me, arms crossed, eyebrows raised. Unfortunately, I knew exactly what they wanted. "Don't look at me like that." 

Munch, as usual, was the first to come up with a wisecrack. "Looks like Olivia woke up on the wrong side of somebody's bed this morning." 

"Come on, you guys, knock it off. She would never do that; you know Olivia." 

"Apparently not as well as you." 

Fin punched his partner in the shoulder. "Hey, if Elliot says nothing happened, nothing happened. He wouldn't lie to us, would you, Elliot?" 

Ah yes, the second most deadly question known to Man, the first being 'How do I look?'. If I said 'yes, I would lie to you', they would instantly assume I was lying to them now. If I said 'no, I wouldn't lie to you', I really would be lying - at least in this situation. So I settled for something neutral. "Thank you, Fin. Nice to know someone around here sticks up for me." 

Thankfully, Cragen strode into the squadroom before anything else could be said. "Where's Olivia?" 

"Out making funeral arrangements for Munch," I replied with a smirk. 

"She's making a coffee run," Fin clarified, "though I wouldn't be surprised if there was poison in John's." 

"Why is everybody picking on me today?" He slumped into his seat. 

"Come on, John, take it like a man." When he glared at my comment, I gave him a shrug. If everyone was going to speculate on my evening with Olivia, I was going to make damn sure I took every opportunity to shift the conversation in a different direction.

* * *

It was a slow Saturday. We spent most of the time working on old cases and finishing up our paperwork. Olivia barely said two words to me the whole day, but I didn't make an effort to chat with her either. It was strange; I knew - and I suspected that she did, too - that we were under surveillance. Fin seemed to ignore us, but Munch was curious. Every once in a while, I'd catch him staring at us. He could've been a reporter, and I had to pre-think my words and actions. I had a hard time distinguishing between too much conversation and too little. Was I teasing her too much, not enough? Did we look at each other for too long? 

The clock ticked over to five, and we all prepared to leave once Cragen gave the okay. Olivia glanced at me as she slid on her coat and rummaged for her car keys, but when I met her eyes, she looked away. I was already ready to go, but I was stalling. I wanted to see what would happen when we were alone, outside of the earshot of our co-workers. 

"Hey, Olivia, you up for dinner?" Fin asked. 

"No, thanks. I'm pretty tired. Have a beer on me though." She smiled at him then turned and headed for the elevator. I said my goodbyes before following. I managed to get on the same car, and we were alone at last. For a while, neither of us said anything, our eyes fixed on the doors. Then she asked, "Chinese sound okay to you?" 

"Whatever you want." 

We walked to the nearby Chinese kitchen, wrapping our coats around us. It was cold today, a complete change from the unusual warmth of last night. We split a plate of dim sum and egg rolls, and most of the meal was spent in silence. There was something wrong; I knew her too well to miss all the signs. 

"So what's on your mind?" 

She gazed at me, eyes glistening in the light of the rice paper lamp hanging above our table. Tears? No, couldn't be. "I, um..." 

"Come on, let's get out of here. We can talk somewhere more private." I smiled as brightly as I could, but deep down, my heart was sinking. It was all becoming very clear to me - the lack of conversation at work, her absence when I awoke. But what I didn't understand was why. Hoping for an answer, I paid for dinner and followed her to her apartment. Every song I heard on the radio was depressing, and I kept changing stations until I found some innocuous talk radio. 

She waited for me at the front door and led me upstairs. We still didn't speak, and I tried to count how many words had actually been exchanged between us since eight o'clock this morning. There was my "Thank you" for the coffee this morning and her "No problem," so that made four... 

It was snowing now, and I watched the white flakes fall outside her window as she locked the door behind me. She made a few noises; I didn't watch her, but I could hear the refrigerator hum as she opened it and rummaged for something to drink. 

"Do you want anything?" 

"No." 

The twisting of a bottle cap. Budweiser, maybe, or Evian. It was hard to tell sometimes. "I would ask you what's wrong, but I think I know." 

"Do you?" 

"You woke up this morning, realized you'd made a terrible mistake, and you ran." I turned around; she was watching me, bottled water in hand. "Am I close?" 

"Well, I did wake up this morning," she said with a small smile, "and I did run, but not for the reason you think." 

I frowned. "Really?" 

"I woke up and realized that I'd had the best night of my life." Placing her water on the counter, she approached me slowly. "And I ran because I learned early on that with joy comes sorrow." She picked up my left hand and gently turned it palm-down, drawing her finger over my wedding band. "You have a family, Elliot. A wife and four wonderful children. I don't want to be the reason that you leave all that behind." 

My throat was dry. There were so many things I wanted to tell her, but no words came out - except a feeble attempt to say her name. 

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks. Then she turned away, and I let out the breath I didn't realize I had been holding. She stopped by the counter again where she picked up a piece of paper. "I received this offer from the department in the mail on Wednesday. Sort of a blessing, now that I look at it." 

"What is it?" I asked, not sure I wanted to know. 

"An invitation to join a different SVU for a six month transfer program. Learn some different techniques, make connections at different units." 

"A different SVU? What, like Brooklyn?" 

"More like San Francisco." 

I couldn't keep the surprise out of my voice. "California? _That_ San Francisco?" Was she serious? 

"Or Chicago, Dallas, Miami. The list of participating departments is extensive." 

I didn't want to hear anymore. In five strides I had her cornered, and I pulled her into my arms. "Why?" 

"Because of my last requalification scores." 

"No." I squeezed her tighter. "Why are you even considering this?" 

She pulled away, her arms around my waist, her eyes locked on mine. "Because you're the one thing I want that I can't have - and I don't know what I'll do when you finally move back home." 

"Liv--" 

"I broke my two major rules for you: never get involved with someone you work with, and never sleep with a married man. But I don't regret it. I could never regret it." 

I nodded. I had broken some pretty serious rules of my own, and I didn't regret it either. "I know." 

"Besides, this transfer program, it's a great opportunity. I've never really been out of the northeast. Might be nice to see other parts of the United States." She was trying awfully hard to convince me - or maybe she was just trying to convince herself. "It's only six months. And maybe by then ... who knows?" 

I wiped one of her tears away with my thumb. "You don't have to do this, Olivia." 

"Yes, I do. For both of us." She gave me the sweetest kiss that I had ever known. "Goodbye, Elliot." 

I walked to the door, and she opened it. With one final look at her, my throat swollen and aching, I replied, "Goodbye, Olivia." The door closed behind me with a gentle click, followed by an unbearable silence. 

She was gone. 

_The End_  
Comments and constructive criticism are always appreciated. I'll even take suggestions and beta readers and sounding boards! 


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